#orangceit

[edupunkn00b]

Meus ex Machina, Chapter 19: Silvertongue and Hesper

Edited public domain image of two hands reaching for each other, lit in deep blue and neon green.

Prev - Silvertongue and Hesper - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

WC: 2689 - Rated: T - CW: non-graphic torture, blood

Where Janus went in the pre-dawn hours. But first, what happened to Lucas after he left HQ on Remus and Roman's 21st birthday. If you haven’t yet read Progression, stop here and read it now for maximum impact. The flashback at the start of this chapter takes place two days after the end of that story.

For at least the hundredth time and for the second time in the past 72 hours, Lucas punched in the coordinates to The Inn. This time, though, he made the trip out to their old watering hole alone.

The ghost of Re’s giddy nervousness bounced around the ship. 

Really? You’re gonna let me have a drink tonight?

Sure, Re. You only turn twenty-one once…

Banking around the scaffold of the Newland Towers, Lucas jumped at the static he picked up from the construction site. For the past three days, Lucas had stayed up, listening, waiting. He’d kept the aircar radio open the whole way out, childishly hoping Jan or Pat or anyone else would reach out. Tell him it was all a mistake. Ask him to come home.

No-one did.

He set down behind the bar and circled his and Jan’s old haunt. A flashing ‘closed’ sign shone in the darkness, and the landing pads out front were vacant, but Andrew’s movement behind the bar cast long shadows in the back windows. The gate was down in front so Lucas returned to the alleyway.

Shiny, new, and with five layers of encryption, the deadbolt on the backdoor was impressive. The rusted screws holding it in place, however, were not and one swift kick opened the door.

“What the hell—” Andrew’s tough guy shout from the bar dropped to a whisper when Lucas came into view. His eyes darted side to side, searching for someone in the empty bar to rescue him.

“Lucas! Hey… hey, um, no hard feelings, right? You know I didn’t call the feds on Re… they just… they just showed up and took care of the body, I…” He stepped back, fumbling along the railing under the taps for his emergency call switch. “But y—you got outta here way before they got here, right?”

“The call button’s two meters to your left,” Lucas responded, flipping a bottle sealer at the powerbank just above the switch. It exploded, sparks raining down on Andrew’s hand. “You wouldn’t want the corpos to just show up coincidentally again, now would you?”

“No, Lucas, no…” He shook his head. “Of course not. C’mon, man… You know it’s not like that. You and Jay have been coming here for years… You all are like family to me.”

Lucas’ voice was quiet. “You took my family from me.” He unbuttoned his coat and peeled it off, revealing a harness with an antique taser and five extra charge canisters. “You took my brother.” Gaze focused on his coat, Lucas walked to the rack next to the front doors and hung it on the closest hook before drawing down the window shade and checking the locks on the door. 

“You took my boys.” Andrew’s eyes widened and he slowly straightened, shaking hands raised near his head. Lucas snapped a fresh charge into place and watched the standby light stutter to life. “You took my love.”

Finally he looked up, eyes ablaze. “I’ve lost everything.” Andrew began to tremble, sympathetic nervous system rooting him in place, full freeze mode. As though that could do anything to help him now. Lucas absorbed the fear pouring out with his rank sweat and smiled. “Just as you’re about to.”

Lucas unlocked the taser and flicked it on. A sharp buzzy whine filled the room, followed by the trickling sound of urine dripping from Andrew’s pant leg. Lucas tsked. “So soon? Very well.”

“No, no, no… Lucas… You don—you—you don’t wanna do this… This—this isn’t you.” Lucas aimed the taser and the man’s words jumbled, hands out as though he could stop the assault. “Wha—what would Jan think if he—”

Lucas’ eyes brightened, orange fire pushing away his doubt. “Jan already thinks I’ve been purchased. He already thinks I betrayed him. To you.” He grinned, his smile broad and easy. And empty as the bar. “Let’s show him who I really answer to, shall we?”

“No… no, please, Lucas, no—” With a bang, refurbished guidewires shot out and embedded in the man’s neck. 50,000 volts cut short his pleas, the bright white glow rivaled only by Lucas’ orange eyes.

~

The slow death of Andrew’s brain ripped away the last shreds of Lucas’ control. Eyes squeezed shut, he doubled over, arms crossed over his head as the bartender’s dying cries shot through his heart. Seared flesh set fire to his nerves. Andrew’s fear his pain would never end. The fear of what would happen when it did.

And Andrew’s last thoughts, the tiny spark of relief that it was finally over.

Lucas slumped to the floor, barely noticing the knot on the side of his own head. He lay there for as long as he dared before pulling himself to his feet and staggering to the toilets.

The lukewarm recycled tap did a poor job on his hands and no matter how hard he scrubbed with the bar’s watered down soap, bits of Andrew’s blood clung to his knuckles and under his nails. In the engraving on his ring.

He took it off, twisting to get it past the callouses, and held it up to the light. Dingy rust filled in the swooping cursive ‘Ja’ on the engraving. Shoulders slumped, he fought the tightening in his throat, the burning behind his eyes. 

But he was spent. His eyes flickered weakly under the dingy bathroom lights. A sob ripped up from his throat and hot tears spilled over, dripping down his cheeks and his neck as he rubbed at his stained wedding ring under the faucet.

His wrist buzzed and hope sparked in his chest.

Hope quickly doused by the message on his comm. Instead of a message from Jan, from Pat, from the boys, a bold proximity warning scrolled across the tiny screen. 

CORPORATE POLICE ACTIVITY 100 YARDS AND CLOSING…

CORPORATE POLICE ACTIVITY 50 YARDS AND CLOSING…

CORPORATE POLICE ACTIVITY 10 YA—

A small blast was followed by the crash of the front door coming off its hinges. His ring hit the basin, rattling as it rolled around and down the open drain.

“Come out with your hands up! Come out—shit! Look what they did to him! Dear god…” The buzz of a dozen tazers more advanced than his own couldn’t cover the tremor in the pig’s voice. “Arms up! That’s an order!” 

Lucas’ comm hummed quietly, a constant vibration against his wrist now.

Auto-distress alert enabled. Contacting HQ in 30… 29… 28… 27…

“We have you surrounded!” Jackboots tromped down the old hardwood floors and came to a stop outside the locked bathroom door. Dust sprinkled from the hinges as they banged on it. “Come out or we’re coming in!”

Lucas turned off the water and watched the numbers tick before tapping Disable just as the distress call countdown hit 1.

His comm screen went dark and he wiped his hands on his pants. “Be out in just a mo’!” he sing-songed. Only Jan would’ve caught the hitch in his voice. Well, Pat, too, most likely. But they weren’t here to care.

He checked the mirror, drying his face and smoothing back his hair. He smiled at the dim but growing amber rings around his eyes, then turned and opened the door.

~

Rain and hail drummed against the hull, a syncopated beat that dragged Lucas from a deep sleep. He’d been dreaming of home again, of the boys chasing each other through the halls. Pat’s more Teddy Bear-than-Papa Bear warnings to slow down. Re promising Pat they’d try before erupting in laughter with Ro, a soft, calm laugh, nothing like his laughter the last time he’d seen him. 

Jan’s smooth hot toddy voice, spice and heat and comfort. His hand, ungloved, unshielded, carding through his hair. 

Lucas leaned back and shook his head to clear away the clingy wisps of dream from his mind.

But Jan’s voice only grew louder. 

-”We need to talk, Hesper. Where can I find you?”-

Amber light bled through his eyelashes and he smiled. -”Mmm… So formal, ma cheri,”- he purred back. -”And yet so rude! Not even a ‘good morning, how did you sleep? How would you like your tea?”-

Jan’s shield was strong, nothing but a faint buzz was his answer.

He was close. Lucas checked the local time. Technically morning, though the sun wouldn’t be up for hours. It had been winter when they’d met, too. He shook off the thought and lit up the room with his eyes. 

-”Is it actually morning where you are?”- Jan asked as though he didn’t know. As though he wasn’t close enough for Lucas to smell his cologne.

Or maybe he just imagined it.

-”I have risen with the light…” Lucas pushed a memory of Jan’s smiling face back at him, hair mussed and splayed out on his pillow. He wasn’t sure how much got through Jan’s shield. Or who he was trying to hurt more. -”Does that count as morning in your calculation?”-

-”I wish to speak with you, Hesper,”- he sent, dull and flat and cold.

Lucas checked the sensors. The others weren’t with him. Jan had actually come alone. He chewed at his lip. Whatever this was, the platform was already dotted with intent detonators. If this was some surprise attack, Lucas would soon know. He sighed, his curiosity getting the better of him, and he lowered the gangway. 

“Welcome aboard, ma cheri,” he called down the open ramp. An elegant shadow in grey and yellow stepped into view and Lucas bowed, one arm sweeping out. “Wipe your feet before you come up, s’il vous plaît. It’s simply filthy out there.”

Hurrying back to his bunk, he pushed up the platform to hide his bedding and flipped down both benches on either side of the little table where he ate and planned and built most of his tools. He started to sit, then rose again and dispensed two cups of hot water for tea, dropping in sachets from his dwindling stash and set them down across from each other.

By the time Jan turned the corner into the main area of the ship, Lucas was sat back, right arm hooked over the back rest, left leg crossed over the other, ankle to knee. He lowered orange-tinted lenses over his eyes and smiled.

“Welcome aboard,” he repeated, biting his cheek when he realized he’d already run through his script.

“You already said that,” Jan replied, voice smooth. Well, mostly smooth, with only a tiny catch at the end which could just be a bit of his old morning hoarseness. Jan’s mind was completely shielded—fuck he’d gotten good at that—but there was a twitch in his left pinkie and he hesitated before sitting. “I appreciate the hospitality,” he nodded before switching their cups and taking a slow sip from the one that had been in front of Lucas.

“Ah, ma cheri, you wound me…” He shook his head and took the other tea cup, blowing away the steam. “You still don’t trust me.” Lucas clucked his tongue, grateful he’d thought to don his glasses as his eyes burned in the attempt to keep his voice light. “Well?” He looked up over the lip of his cup between sips. “While your company is a pleasure as always…” They could both pretend Jan’s cheeks warmed from the heat of his tea. “You said you had something to discuss with me.”

Jan set down his cup and watched the steam rise. “To be completely honest with you, Luc, I’m not entirely sure why I’m here.”

All Lucas’ powers couldn’t stifle how much he wanted Jan to say his name again, how much he needed Jan to say his name again. He hid his face behind his cup and took another sip to buy time to settle his heart. “Interesting,” he murmured, cracked voice betraying him. Jan’s eyes shot up.

Lucas sat, silent and pinned down by his gaze, until Jan finally continued. “I suppose given everything that’s happened, I…” Jan addressed his cup, lifting it up for another slow sip. “I was so sure we’d done everything we could do to help Re. That we’d given him every safeguard, every protection possible. But…” He shook his head. “If I was wrong about that,” he whispered, more to himself than to Lucas. “What else have I been wrong about?”

“What’s happened?” Lucas leaned forward, reaching for Jan before he could even think to stop himself. “What’s wrong with Re?”

Jan leaned back, eyebrow raised, and sipped his tea. -”You don’t hear him?”- he asked silently.

Brow furrowed, Lucas closed his eyes and reached out. There was the buzz of Jan’s shield, a dark, staticy hole where his feelings should be. A couple asleep in their ship two platforms down. The rumble of families in the surrounding shelters. A little boy crying from a nightmare. And then…

Lucas gasped. Like finally noticing a song playing in the background, he suddenly registered the touch of Re’s mind in the distance. His cup clattered to the table and he leapt to his feet. Re! “You left him alone? Unshielded and alone and—”

“And happy,” Jan murmured to his cup, seated serenely across from him. “And not alone.”

Lucas slowly took his seat, stretching, feeling for any sense he could detect of Re’s thoughts over the distance. He’d moored this ship on the knife’s edge of his own abilities, near enough to hear everyone in HQ. Far enough he wouldn’t be too tempted to listen.

Re was completely unshielded but… he was calm. His thoughts rippled around him, gentle and rhythmic drops on a pond. Sleeping? Given the hour and the wordlessness of his thoughts, probably. A light sleep, no dreams yet, nothing that would trigger a strong emotional response at least. He was calm and content and… happy.

And Jan was right. Re was not alone.

“Is Ro—” He shook his head, answering his own question. No, if Ro had been with him, the boys most certainly would be up and making good trouble around—or outside—the house. No, he was with…

“He’s with Machina,” Jan answered.

“You left him alone with your twitchy bot?” Again, Lucas was on his feet, stomping toward the controls. “You trust him not to hurt him? I know you remember what hap—”

Jan followed and caught his arm, pulling him away from the pilot’s seat. His hand was warm through his gloves, gentle as it lingered on his forearm. “The Muse would never hurt Machina. Never intentionally.”

“I’m not talking about your fucking robot getting hurt! How do you know it won’t hurt Re?”

He never got to answer.

Lucas’ wrist buzzed half a second before a charge rocked the ship. “Get down!” he ordered and pushed Jan to the deck. Another blast hit the other side of the ship. 

The glow of his comm screen peeked out from under Jan’s sleeve and he pushed it back. Jan swore. “They’re close. Too many to count.”

Lucas nodded, shifting to tap at his own wrist. Bright white dots surrounded their location. The hull clanked, hurricane clamps tearing at the fuselage. “Damn.” 

Jan twisted beneath him, eyes wide and staring at his wrist. “You still wear your—”

He ignored the question and pushed to his feet before offering a hand to Jan. “You turned off your proximity alarm.”

“Had to,” he muttered, brushing imagined dust off his cloak. “It went off every day at the DC. Don’t avoid the question. Why do you still wear—”

Another blast rocked the ship. The corpos were getting bolder. And closer. A second blast was followed by a pained cry. They were now near enough to trigger the intent charges.

Lucas shook his head, eyeing the roof hatch. “We need to get out of here.”

The outer hull blew and jackboots tromped up the gangway, comms crackling. Lucas dropped the inner blast door just before they reached the top, then grabbed Jan and a pack. He sealed off the corridor from the inside just before the corpos entered the main control room.

They were now trapped inside the ship.

-“We need help,”- Jan corrected and pressed the HQ alert on his wrist. -“Now.”-

[edupunkn00b]

Meus ex Machina, Chapter 17: Two Steps Forward

Edited public domain image of two hands reaching for each other, lit in deep blue and neon green.

Prev - Two Steps Forward - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

WC: 3305 - Rated: T - CW: swearing, suggestive, non-graphic nudity, (memories of) non-graphic violence

Logan (and Roman) work obsessively at finding a way to help Remus. Just as Lucas had. And just as Lucas had, they have a breakthrough.

“Re’s really progressing in his control,” Luc murmured, head pillowed on Janus’ belly. His head rose and fell with each breath, a soft marking of time as they wound down for the evening.

Janus hummed and carded an ungloved hand through his hair. “He seemed so happy at dinner after your excursion.”

“When we first got out there, he… he started to get overwhelmed. Ro did, too, at first. The…” His brow furrowed, then smoothed under Janus’ touch. “Old Boston is so close to the camps… That’s a lot of voices, a lot of pain.” Luc shifted, smiling up at him through messy curls. “Your lessons carried Ro through it.”

The fact he could help at least one of the boys eased the tightness in Janus’ chest. “That helps, love. Thank you.” His decade-old promise to keep them both safe danced through his mind and fueled every attempt to get Re’s powers under control. “So… how did you get through to Re?”

His gaze shifted, suddenly fascinated by the crooked edge of a thumbnail.

“Luc?” Janus prompted, hand stilling in his hair.

“I took just a little of the hurt,” he said, finally looking up. “Just enough to let him concentrate.”

“Luc! You promised you’d focus on techniques to help him stay calm, not just doping him!”  Janus sat up and Luc pushed up onto his elbow, bringing them closer to eye level. “He needs to learn how to filter the perceptions coming in, not just… not care about what’s out there.”

“It wasn’t a full block! I swear, ma cheri,” Luc insisted, reaching for his arm. “We can’t just yank off the training wheels and let him teeter off a cliff.”

“I’m not suggesting—”

“‘Trust me, dammit,’” Luc whispered with a little smile. His grin grew when Janus sighed, shaking his head with a laugh.

“Now that’s just unfair,” he murmured, pushing back the hair from his eyes. “You can’t use my own words against me.”

“I can’t?” Luc chuckled, sliding closer and nuzzling against his collarbone. “Who’s gonna stop me?”

~

Twenty-three weeks.

One hundred and sixty-one days.

One hundred and sixty-one days since he’d first looped a reverse-field esper coil over The Prince’s shoulders.

“Damn,” he’d grunted under the weight but still laughed. “If this doesn’t work, Iron Man, I’m gonna make you bench this thing.” Logan had spent a lot of time in the fitness room after that first failed test.

One hundred and sixty-one days of breaking the vise on V’s printer, of burning his fingertips on overheated solder. One hundred and sixty-one days of The Prince’s downcast eyes, of flicking off a too-much or two-little device.

One hundred and sixty-one nights of whispering together outside The Muse’s door about that day’s attempts. And about the book The Muse was reading, and the Springsgate bridge the team had saved from collapsing. 

About the dreams they’d each had the night before.

It had taken three weeks, but they’d finally convinced V to install a vent in the hall at Logan’s level to make it easier for the Muse to hear him. After watching Logan stretch and strain to get closer to the vent he’d installed at eye level—at a standing Mad Lad’s eye level—he’d finally obliged. The work in the hall was quick, but Silvertongue had needed to dig up some ancient set of manual tools so V could install the bolts on The Muse’s side.

“Wait, not that drill—”

“Dammit!” The power drill sparked and sizzled in his grip, and the acrid scent of burnt insulation filled the air. “Mac, you got the hand drill—” Logan had chuckled and thunked into his outstretched palm.

“Right here, V.”

One night, he and The Muse had tried to sit together on either side of the open door for an actual face-to-face conversation. But the temptation had been too great and all it had taken was one tiny touch for fire to spread between them.

At least it had been brief enough not to have woken The Prince or Silvertongue.

One hundred and sixty two days later, after everyone had gone to sleep, Logan tapped at The Muse’s door, trial #398 freshly polished and nestled in his lap.

“You said Ro helped you?”

The Muse sat on the floor, two arms’ length distance from the open door. He fidgeted with his sleeves, twisting them together in his lap, and chewed the edge of his mustache. He watched with wide eyes as Logan maneuvered to the floor—less than gracefully—and turned to retrieve the thick metal ring from his wheelchair. 

Logan nodded, holding up the device. It was heavy, though perhaps not as heavy as it looked. It was about three inches wide and a good inch thick, a large durasteel bangle custom fit to wrap around The Muse’s wrist.

Well, designed to fit tightly around his brother’s wrist. Eyeing The Muse’s far bonier wrist now, Logan nodded, certain it would fit him comfortably.

“And Ro’s not awake, is he?”

“No,” He shook his head, smile tight. That first time they’d touched, it had taken The Prince several days to completely recover from the overflow of thought and perception from The Muse’s unshielded mind. “He’s asleep. And if anything goes wrong, we’ll flip the shield back up. He might have a brief nightmare. Nothing worse than that.” 

Nothing worse than starting all over with their tests. Again.

Logan shook away his pessimism and met The Muse’s eyes before setting down the coil on the floor between them. “Are you ready?”

The Muse’s fingers twitched as he reached for the device. Completely powered down, it lay heavy and quiet on the floor, with none of the staticy buzz it usually emitted. His hand hovered above it, just shy of touching it.

“But if you turn it on in here, won’t my shield break your—your”

“Esper coil,”

“Yeah.” The Muse traced a spray of wires woven along the edges. Patton had helped with the braiding and Logan briefly wondered if he recognized his work. The Muse looked up and nodded. “You should see what he does with hair.”

Dragging his eyes away from The Muse’s soft green ones, Logan nodded and pointed to the power switch. “You will need to activate the coil immediately after I shut down your field. I would, but—” Right hand outstretched, he wiggled his fingers at the same time he waved his left stump.

The Muse chuckled. “Okay, I can do that. And you’re sure it’ll work?”

“I’m positive the coil will protect you. I would never knowingly put you in any jeopardy. We’ve tested it extensively and—”

“No.” The Muse touched his sleeve. “I mean are you sure it will work to protect you from me? That time the power went out, and when we touched… I…” He hung his head. “I hurt you.”

“We hurt each other,” he reminded him. “I will be fine,” Logan promised, before The Muse could argue—again—about who hurt who more. “If need be, I’ll reactivate the field.” He smiled, his hand close enough to the Muse’s to feel that glorious buzzy heat radiate off his skin.

“Okay,” he nodded. “I trust you, Logan. This switch here?”

“Precisely.” Eyes fixed on The Muse, Logan climbed up the perch next to the door, then felt along the wall for the shield’s control panel. The cover squeaked when he flipped it up. He nodded one more time and pressed his palm against the shield’s controls.

The numbers counted down and The Muse’s mustache quivered, and he shook out the hand hovering over the coil’s switch. The panel flicked to ‘0’ and a strangled sound spilled from his lips, a matching wail filling Logan’s mind.

Abruptly, the pain was gone and the Muse looked up, blinking as he smiled back at him. The cry in Logan’s mind shifted, deepening into a soft, comforting hum. It reminded Logan of a lullabye.

“It worked,” the Muse whispered. He inched closer, still gripping the coil. “I… It… It doesn’t hurt,” he said, looking around the room as though he could see through the walls.

Maybe he could.

“I…” He let out a low sigh and his entire face melted into a softer smile, his shoulders dropped, hands loose even as he hugged the coil close to his belly. “I can hear… I can hear y—” The Muse’s eyes flew wide open. “You hurt!”

“What?” Logan scrabbled for the panel, stabbing at the controls. “No, no, no, I’m so sorry, I’ll turn it back on, I’m sorry, I was so sure, I—” It would fry the coil, but all that mattered was stopping the Muse’s pain. Hand trembling, he broke the sequence and had to start from the beginning, hurrying to get the protective field reactivated.

But the Muse was faster.

“No, Logan, I mean you hurt,” he said softer, gently pulling his hand from the controls. When had he gotten so close? The Muse’ hand was warm against his, but it was more than a surface heat. His touch felt… textured. Plush, like a fluffy towel. Or dandelion heads. What insulation looked like.

Logan relaxed and moved closer. The Muse just nodded, still holding his hand, coil now wrapped around his wrist. Scarred and calloused fingers oh-so-gently traced over his own misshapen digits, brushing over the scarred knuckles where his pinky and ring finger had once been. 

“I can hear how much you hurt here,” the Muse whispered. “And here,” he added, tapping what was left of his legs, then his arm.

Logan looked away, but the warmth spreading from the Muse’s touch remained. “Phantom limb pain. The clinic said it’s all in my head,” he muttered.

“Of course all our pain is in our heads,” the Muse replied, sliding closer. “So is our joy and our pleasure and our fear and our need.” His hands were so warm. “Our love and our desire.”

This close, Logan was certain he heard the Muse’s words like his own thoughts, though with the coil set this high that shouldn’t be possible.

The Muse grinned as he touched his chin, two gentle fingers turning him so their eyes would meet. “You’re softer now, but I can still hear you. And I think you can hear me.”

Logan shivered, the Muse’s excitement buzzing under his own skin, easing his worry. The movement set off a wave of sharp ache, long-gone calves screaming to be stretched. He stifled a cry. “And… and I’m not hurting you?”

“No,” he said, wincing in time with Logan.

The panel called to him. “No, I am. I can see it. I’m hurting you. I should raise your shield.”

“No, please don’t,” the Muse stroked his hand. “I have an idea.” Pulling back, he sat fully on the floor, legs crossed at the shins in front of him. One hand rested on his thigh and the other he held in offering to Logan. “Close your eyes and take my hand.”

With one more glance at the control panel, Logan slid down to the floor and did as he was asked. Eyes closed, Muse’s hand wrapped around his and he laced their fingers together, with Logan’s pinkie—his pinkie— brushing against a long, jagged scar over the back of Muse’s hand.

“You feel that, don’t you?” Laughter played in his voice. “Now take my other hand,” he whispered.

“But I—” Logan began even as warm, callused fingers enveloped his left hand. Tears pricked his eyes as he flexed fingers he hadn’t felt since the bot attack. “H—how? How are you doing that?”

“Keep your eyes closed,” Muse instructed instead of answering. “And see.”

Eyes still shut, Logan looked down and smiled at his own thin, pale fingers threaded together with Muse’s. The tips of Muse’s fingers were scarred and rough, but his palms were soft and wonderfully warm. Logan squeezed his hand, laughing, then traced a thick knotted scar just above his first knuckle. The bones were crooked beneath his skin, like they’re broken and fused not quite the way they’d been. Muse nodded.

“I punched the cinderblock,” he explained with a dry laugh. “I thought it might be a good distraction, but…” He shook his head and gave him a little shrug when their eyes ‘met.’ 

Logan stroked the scar, nodding slowly, then brought their shared grip together and compared his hands side-by-side. His own hands weren’t identical, but they never had been. Without the augmentations commonplace for Traditional children of the highest classes, the fingers on Logan’s dominant left hand had always been just a little thicker, a little stronger. 

He’d always scarred easily and his skin freckled in the sun. This hand, his hand Muse was showing him was splashed with the same familiar constellation of freckles and moles on the back of it where he’d missed his sunscreen, awkwardly applying it with his non-dominant hand. He’d had the marks since before the final round of ozone replacements back when he was still a child. Know you like the back of my hand…

Muse’s Illusion was… perfect. Incredible, in fact. Logan could ‘see’ his old hand so clearly. But—

“Your mind remembers,” Muse whispered, leaning closer until their foreheads touched, hands clasped between them. “It’s all in there, bouncing around in your head, little memories hiding from your own thoughts.”

Logan floated in the gentle cadence of his words. 

“But your mind keeps it all, the memory never really goes away. Nothing does. Nothing dies in your mind. Your mind remembers what your hand looked like, remembers what things felt like. Your mind remembers everything.”

As if on cue, Logan curled around himself, a tearing, burning pain shooting up his left arm and his right hand clenched around Muse’s. The pickerbot’s shadow loomed over them, cold metal pulling him up by the hair and—

“Shhh, it’s okay,” Remus whispered. A mustache bristled against the knuckles of his right hand as warm, chapped lips pressed kisses against his mangled fingers and Logan gradually softened his grip. “See? You’re safe.” When his right hand grew slack, Remus laid it in his own lap. “Rest your hand there,” he instructed, then wrapped both hands around Logan’s trembling left arm.

Palm smoothing down over skin that wasn’t really there, he gripped Logan’s phantom left hand, then firmly massaged the muscles in his shoulder and upper arm, pressing away the pain of ripped ligaments and flesh, the physical evidence of a solid, whole humerus overriding the memory of shattered, grating bone.

His hands moved down Logan’s left arm, pressing soft spirals into his elbow and over the flexors in his forearm, his wrist, each finger. When he was done, Remus lifted Logan’s left hand to his lips and gently kissed each fingertip.

Logan flexed his left hand, twisting his arm first one way and then the other. Remus smiled, watching.

“Better?” he asked and Logan nodded. “Now your legs. May I?”

“I trust you, Remus,” he said, laying back. Remus. When had he started to call him that?

Remus only smiled and a fuzzy brightness filled his mind. Warm sunlight on a hot day, a cool breeze raising goosebumps at the back of his neck, and over his cheeks. His heart thrummed in his chest, syncopated with the beat of Remus’ just under his skin. He relaxed as Remus shifted his body, freely sharing images of how he wanted to move him. 

Stretched out on the floor, head pillowed on one of the cushions, he lifted each leg one at a time as Remus massaged away a year’s worth of knots and aches from phantom muscles. Remus slowly worked his way up until his fingers grazed the line of fire half-way up his thigh where the pickerbot had torn him apart. He flinched.

“It’s okay, Logan, see for yourself.”

His words were soft and voiceless, but clear in Logan’s mind. He looked past closed eyes and saw his legs were healthy and whole, lanky muscles relaxed under Remus’ ministrations. The fiery ache was gone, replaced by Remus’ soft, gentle touch.

“Whenever it hurts, whenever you hurt, remember this feeling,” he said, the silent words stitching themselves into his every cell, neurons crackling and popping like those old vids of campfires. Remus helped him sit up then cupped his face between both hands. “You’re safe now, Logan.”

Remus’ words melted into his skin with the heat of his touch and Logan nodded. “I know.”

He leaned against the door and Remus curled close, tucking himself under his stump of an arm. Slowly, Logan reached up and brushed back a bit of Remus’ hair where it had fallen into his eyes. Warmth spread through his chest, a low rumbly hum. He wasn’t sure if it had started in Remus and spread to him. Or the other way around.

Just as slowly, Remus wrapped one arm around his belly, molding himself to Logan’s side. “Is this okay?”

Logan couldn’t tell if he’d asked out loud. He nodded, cheek rubbing against the top of Remus’ head. “More than okay,” he said with his mouth. Don’t let go, he said with his heart.

And Remus heard both. “I won’t,” he promised.

They stayed like that until their eyelids grew heavy and Logan’s hand stuttered and fell against Remus’ shoulder. 

“It’s late and you’re drifting off,” he murmured, shifting so he could look into his eyes. Remus blinked slowly, concern mixed with a happy daze. “It’s probably safer for you to sleep in your room, just in case…” He jiggled the coil on his wrist, its circuitry’s buzz reassuring. The key to so much.

But Remus was right. Logan nodded and he tried to sit up, a vision of clambering up and into his chair pulling him further from sleepiness.

“I can help.” Remus moved to a crouch, arms open. “We’ll work together,” he grinned, understanding both Logan’s need and hesitation without him having to speak it. He could get used to that. “Teamwork and all that, right?”

“Right.” Conjugations from an ancient Latin textbook, one of those old screened ones you could only read in the library, popped into his groggy brain as Remus lifted him up so he could reach the door controls. “Quorum par, tuum par, meus par…” [ ‘Our partner, your partner, my partner’ ]

Remus chuckled and settled him into his chair after the door slid open. “‘Meus par?’ Does that mean what I think it means?”

“Ah… Ah w—well—” Logan’s cheeks burned, the many meanings of the words ‘my partner’ flowing freely from Remus’ mind. “Th—that particular meaning might be more precisely translated as ‘socius meus.’”

Remus knelt next to Logan’s chair, keeping himself at eye level, if not just a little below. He then took Logan’s hand and held it to his own heart, the steady, rapid thrumming tickling them both.

“Or you could just call me ‘meus.’” Remus stared back at him, naked hope painting his features, a galaxy of emotions pouring from his mind. It left Logan dizzy and overwhelmed, this heady mix of joy and fear and… something soft he didn’t want to try to find words for. But did they really need words? Did they need words for what battered at the inside of his rib cage, fighting to be heard?

“Meus, then,” he whispered and Remus’ face bloomed in a smile. “Good night, Meus,” he said again.

“Good night, Logan.” He pressed a kiss against Logan’s knuckles and drew back into his room and let the door close.

Logan sat outside Remus’ room for a long time before slowly rolling down to the elevator. He called it and the doors slid open. He half-expected V to be waiting for him inside. But the elevator was empty.

After a minute or two, the elevator doors closed with him still sitting in the hall. The car remained where it was. Logan turned and rolled back to Remus’ door.

Remus was there, watching through the window.

“I don’t want to leave,” he said, hand trembling as he reached for the door panel. Remus nodded and leapt through the door as it slid open.

He crouched in front of his chair, both arms wrapped tight around Logan’s middle. “Then stay.”

[edupunkn00b]

Meus ex Machina, Chapter 20: Meus et Machina

Edited public domain image of two hands reaching for each other, lit in deep blue and neon green.

Prev - Meus et Machina - Next and Final - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

The Mad Lads scrambled aboard the largest transport and strapped themselves in. Where the last few runs had left almost half the seats empty, now that Remus sat in the green-trimmed seat next to The Prince’s, Logan finally noticed everyone else’s seat matched their flight clothes. Every seat except Patton’s pilot chair, at least. A faded orange braid trimmed the pilot’s seat, and a vacant seat decorated in cyan blue sat empty behind the large open area where Logan strapped in.

But he didn’t have long to wonder about it. Swearing, Virgil moved to the gold-trimmed seat next to Patton and sat the tablet into a dock.

“It’s not looking good.”

An almost bored-sounding AI reader spilled from the speakers. “… armed forces in a stand-off with the terrorist known as Hesper the Hacker… All civilians in the area have been successfully evacuated, but scanners show another Powered is with him in an unregistered and stolen vehicle. Authorities are unclear on whether the other Powered is a hostage or an accomplice.”

Remus nodded from his seat. “Jannie’s with him.” The other Mad Lads went quiet, lost in private—or silently shared—thoughts.

“Wait—” Logan shook his head, looking between them all to find someone who’d explain. “Hesper kidnapped Silvertongue? How did he get inside HQ? How did he even find it?”

V busied himself with the sensors while Remus and The Prince exchanged a look. Remus shook his head, a faint -”You’re wrong about him, Ro, he—”– filtering through before The Prince cut him off.

“We’ll see when we get there,” The Prince said aloud, shaking his head. “He’s not to be trifled with. He’s dangerous, Re.”

“Yeah,” he said. “So am I.”

They fell quiet again and the newsfeed chatter filled the space. 

“… This Powered hacker has plagued us for too long…” Some self-important talking suit spoke before an array of microphones and vid drones, slamming the podium with each word. The view cut away to a different view of the landing platform they were approaching. “We have the outlaw surrounded and are preparing an air assault. Any closer and we risk his manipulation tactics. We urge any remaining citizens in the area to evacuate and…”

“I thought they said they got everyone out,” Logan spoke over the feed.

“They lied,” Patton said from the front, pointing to the new sensor feed V had brought up. A half dozen fluorescent pink dots were scattered and moving over the area. Likely people who’d been woken by the blasts. 

“Any non-citizen left in the vicinity will be assumed to be a conspirator and shot on sight…”

“Shit,” V swore from the front. “They’re gonna just take them both out.”

“But Silvertongue’s credentialed,” Logan looked around the ship. “As soon as they see him, they’ll…” His voice fell away at Remus’ expression.

The Prince rapped his fingers against his armrests, frowning. “Consorting with a known terrorist? It won’t matter who he is.”

“They’re not ‘consorting,’” Remus shrugged, eyes faraway. “They’re just talking, well… shouting.”

“So we need to get Silvertongue out. Can you tell him we’re here and—”

Remus shook his head. “Jannie won’t leave without him.”

No-one else contradicted him and Logan didn’t try to hide his confusion. “Won’t leave without the man who kidnap—”

“We’ve got company!” Patton announced just as the transport stuttered in the air. The glare of an explosive whited out the main windscreen, killing the newsfeed nattering on in the background. And the ship’s sensors. “I’m going in blind.”

“Wait—” Logan snapped down his HUD and leaned closer to the nearest porthole. “I can see the strip.”

“Great, Kiddo, now come up here and steer!” Patton turned, his smile crumbling when he eyed the narrow space between the console and the seats. His mech wouldn’t fit. “Nevermind, I’ll just… wing it.”

“You don’t have to,” Remus whispered, eyes closed. Logan felt the warm breeze of his touch in his mind and he nodded, leaning closer to the porthole to get a better view. -“Papa Bear, can you see it?”- Remus asked, aloud or in his head. Logan couldn’t tell, but did it matter?

“Crystal clear, Kiddos!” The ship dropped, a steep arc down that left their stomachs up in their throats. Finally, they leveled out below the cloud cover.

“The landing pad on the right—” The platform was dotted with generic-looking ships in various states of disrepair. A few looked like they hadn’t flown in years, with tattered tie downs and ice cold engines.

“I see it, Kiddo! You keep looking at it and be my eyes. Now we just need to figure out which ship they’re in.”

“The small one,” The Prince’s voice mimicked his brother’s and Logan focused his viewfinder on the smallest ship. “They’re in there.” 

The paint was chipped and faded, and its dented panels left Logan with the impression it wouldn’t make it across the landing bay let alone across a sea. But the engines showed residual warmth in the infrared. It had flown recently. Very recently.

Patton followed where Logan’s eyes led, though, and when they got closer, his infrared picked up the blaster fire raging behind the ship. “It’s not looking good. No wonder they tried to blind us.”

“They underestimated us.” Remus’ burst of pride at solving the problem flowed between them all and V clapped his shoulder as he moved to the back, gathering blast shields for each of them. “We’ll be ready.”

“We need a plan, guys,” Patton muttered over his shoulder, concentration split on the team and the images Remus shared from Logan’s HUD.

“The ships right around them are empty… Fuck. No, one of them’s occupied.”

A giddy rush bubbled around Remus’ mind as inspiration struck. “Virge, can you and Papa Bear get them out? Ro and I can create a distraction.” 

Patton nodded. “Then when they’re clear, we go in on Hesper’s ship.”

“How can I help?” Logan asked without looking away from the porthole.

“You’ll be our shield. The corpos use lasers because even Powereds are soft and squishy.”

“But I’m not.” Logan smiled when Remus patted his suit’s thigh, sending the remembered impression of his hand against bare skin. Gaze still focused out the porthole, guiding Patton’s descent, he heard the tap of Remus’ shield coil on his wrist as it hit his suit, he knew he was fully encased in his mech. 

But all Logan felt was the warm touch of Remus’ hand. 

“Nope, Lo, you’re not.” The transport landed with a dull thud a few hundred yards from Hesper’s ship. “Nice job, Padre.” The Prince unstrapped and waited for Logan to move to the gangway.

Remus tugged at his shoulder and Logan lowered his face shield and turned to face him. “Listen, Lo, you’ll need to be their shield, too.”

“I—I don’t understand.” Something unspoken traveled between the rest of the Mad Lads, too quick for Logan to pick up more than a rumble of fear and worry. But he would’ve known that just from their expressions.

V nodded, grim, and caught Patton’s eye before speaking. “Focus on Silvertongue and Hesper. Papa Bear and I’ll be okay. We’ll be far away enough that…”

“We’ll try to keep the worst of it from you two,” The Prince nodded.

Patton smiled sadly and bumped his shoulder. “We know, Kiddo.”

Remus cupped Logan’s cheek, searching his eyes. “When I give the signal, turn on your shield and keep it small, just around you, but keep it up no matter what,” he whispered. “Do you understand?” He sent a tiny flash of what he and The Prince had planned and Logan’s throat seized.

He nodded, words stolen, but he let out a slow breath and raised his faceplate when Remus nodded back. “Everyone ready?” he asked, arms open and ready to deflect whatever was aimed their way.

Remus clapped his suit’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”

~

Luc’s ship was taking heavy fire but somehow the dented hull held up. Janus was embarrassed to admit that the camouflage had fooled even him. “Did you paint this hunk of junk with rust?”

Another jolt wiped away Luc’s fleeting smile as he stumbled. “Not bad, huh? It took longer than the boys could’ve Illusioned it, but, hey, I work with what I’ve got.” The ship rattled, the loud thud from outside from something other than blaster fire.

“Shit,” Janus muttered, peeking through the covered porthole. “They’re ramming us.” The squeal of metal on metal rang out and the entire ship began to shake. “How close are you to the edge?”

“Too close.”

“Anchors?”

Luc shook his head. “We lost ‘em in the first barrage,” he muttered, pointing at the dead console. The screeching suddenly stopped, replaced by renewed laser fire. But it wasn’t aimed at the ship. “Who are they shooting at now?”

Janus tapped at his wrist comm. It was jammed but the proximity sensor still worked. Not that he needed it -”The cavalry's arrived, Jannie!”- The Muse’s voice filled his mind. 

-”Muse! What are you doing here?”-

Luc’s eyes flashed bright orange and he pried up a floor panel, revealing a vest festooned with pockets and another small pack that Janus pretended not to recognize.

-”Saving your asses,”- The Muse laughed over the connection, not hearing or, more than likely, disregarding Janus’ real question of what was he doing there. -”Look out the window!”-

They peered out on either side of a mostly-shuttered porthole. The Mad Lads’ transport was docked a hundred meters away, taking heavy fire. Now they had a way off the platform at least, but there was half a squadron of corporate police between them and safety. And it wouldn’t be long before they split their attention and resumed the attack on Luc’s disabled ship. 

On cue, the banging in the next room grew louder as the point team ripped off a control panel. “They’re looking for a manual override.” Luc swore when a strip of lights burst, showering them in sparks.

“We need to get out of here,” Janus muttered, counting the guns outside.

Luc’s gaiter was up and covering the lower half of his face. “We?” he asked, muffled and impossible to read.

“You’re not safe here, Luc.”

He scoffed. “You come in here, all big doe eyes, talking about Re and ‘making mistakes’? Are you certain you didn’t bring the corpos with you?” His eyes flickered orange and he dropped his damned goggles down, hiding even the evidence of his own manipulation. “Oh, no, that’s right. That’s your line.”

“Dammit, Hesper, can you drop it long enough for us to get out of here alive?”

“Just go,” Luc shouted over another burst coupling. He shoved him further back as thick coolant gas sprayed out from a cracked control panel. The gas condensed when it hit the air, covering the floor in a heavy grey mist. “They’re not after you.”

“If I go out there, they’ll shoot me first then maybe bother to ask what I was doing here.”

“Dammit! Why did you come here any—”

-”Both of you, stop it!”- The Muse roared in their minds. -”You need to get the fuck out of there now! The ship’s inches from the edge. We have a plan… Just… just don’t believe your eyes, okay?”-

-”Re, what are you—”-

The blaster fire cut out all at once, the burning sizzle replaced by shrieking screams.

-”Don’t believe anything you see until he’s got you, okay? Open the door and let him in!”-

~

Faceplate locked in place, Logan tread slowly through the special forces surrounding Hesper’s ship. His esper coil set to its lowest level, he carried with him a tiny bubble of clarity through the crowd. He’d learned to shove those closest to him away before Remus and The Prince’s Illusion dissolved too completely for them. Just an arms’ length away, soldiers writhed on the ground, hands covering their faces or flailing wildly, fighting off the monsters of the twins’ worst imaginations. Insects the size of people, hungry rocks with teeth.

Their fellow soldiers, armed and hungry.

-“Keep it on, Lo,”- Remus had sent one last warning before he’d clicked on the coil, cutting off what had quickly become the familiar background buzz of their co-mingled thoughts. “No matter what!” he’d insisted aloud.

It wasn’t until the screaming started that Logan had completely understood.

The Illusion was contained, well, mostly contained, to the area surrounding Hesper’s beat up ship. Patton and V had spread out, gathering civilians and getting them out of the Illusion’s boundaries. They’d each had enough practice with the twin’s powers to maintain their own shields for brief periods of time. They all knew Logan had no such abilities.

Silvertongue, though, was at the center of the Illusion, and as practiced and skilled as he was, even his mental shields would quickly crumble under the full weight of both brother’s concentrated power. They needed to keep the officers away from Hesper’s ship long enough for Logan to gather Silvertongue into his shielded bubble. And, at Remus’ urging, Hesper, too.

It would leave both of them without their powers, but if Logan was quick enough, he could get all three of them back to the ship in time to escape.

As Remus had promised, the gangway dropped as he approached. He ran up at half speed, the entire ship stuttering under his steps. “Silvertongue?” he called, straining to hear over the racket outside—and in. He stepped over the body of a soldier, face bloodied and unconscious. Minutes ago, the military outside was actively trying to murder them all, but now their anguished cries tore at Logan’s nerves. Every human instinct drove him to go and help, to fight off what was hurting them.

But he needed them to hurt so he could get Silvertongue to safety.

“Silvertongue!” he shouted again, turning down a tight corridor. For a small ship, it seemed to have impossibly too many places for them to hide. “Where are you? Silver—” 

One scuffed boot poked out from a cabinet and Logan rushed forward and ripped off the door. Hesper had shoved a struggling Silvertongue into the far corner. He muttered something in his ear, and held him tightly, arms pinned down and face smashed against his shoulder. Eyes glowing orange in the darkened closet, Hesper fought his attempts to break free. Janus’ anguished screams were muffled against his chest as Hesper suffocated him.

“Get off of him!” Logan shouted, prying them apart.

The men froze the moment they were encased in his protective shield, the orange light dying instantly from Hesper’s eyes. Logan pulled Janus close, circling one arm around his body, both a shield and a hold. He lifted his other arm, ready to fend off his kidnapper, but instead of fighting, Hesper dropped to his knees, a guttural moan ripping up from his throat. 

Disoriented, Janus shook his head, wild eyes scanning the tiny space. He inspected his hands and brushed frantically at his clothes, only stopping when his hand hit the unyielding durasteel of Logan’s suit. He looked up at him, brow furrowed. “Machina?” he croaked, voice ruined from his screams. After a moment, his eyes dropped down to the blinking lights of his esper coil. “Where’s—”

Somehow still outside the protective field, the horrors of the twins’ Illusion had Hesper in its grip. He let out another cry. Caught in the nightmare, Hesper had even dropped whatever power he’d been using to keep Janus captive, his now ordinary-looking eyes squeezed shut as he rocked himself.

Janus reached for him, speaking too softly for Logan to hear over the pandemonium outside the ship. “We need to get you out of here,” Logan shouted above the din.

He started to turn but Janus beat at his arm and pointed at Hesper. Logan hesitated. Did Janus not remember what Hesper had been doing just moments before? But he’d promised Remus and apparently so had Janus. Shaking his head, he gripped Hesper’s vest and dragged him to his feet.

Less than a foot from Logan’s coil, Hesper was certainly now shielded from the twins’ Illusion. But he continued to sob. Maybe he still just caught in the memory of it. Even Janus looked affected, reaching for his captor from the safety of Logan’s hold.

Logan shivered, his own memories of the nightmares he’d seen locked in Remus’ mind not so distant. And that had been with Remus trying not to hurt him. “They’re waiting for us.”

Hesper stumbled and that’s when Logan noticed the bag gripped in his hand. He scanned it, but it held no weapons, none he could detect, at least. “Fine,” he muttered, mostly to himself, and hitched Hesper up over his shoulder and carried them both out of the ship.

Some of the military had gone almost catatonic, laying on the ground with eyes wide and limbs twitching. A few were huddled together, wrestling and tearing at each other. Logan stepped over a pair of them, watching the clarity return to their eyes as they entered his shield. He moved away too quickly for them to grab at him and they fell back into their nightmare visions within seconds.

Remus and The Prince stood back to back, eerily still in the chaos. Logan scanned the area. Two smaller transports were lifting off from the far platform, likely Patton and V’s work to evacuate any remaining civilians. 

It had taken longer than he’d thought to locate Janus and get them both out of Hesper’s ship. Patton and V were already on board the ̨Mad Lad transport and the engine was humming. Logan hurried towards it, hoping to give the other Mad Lads a respite from fighting to shield themselves from the Illusion. 

The twins followed him, walking slowly and remaining back to back, keeping the entire platform in sight as they moved.  

Patton was in the pilot’s seat, flicking switches and resetting their sensors. It appeared whatever the military had been using to jam them had stopped with their counterattack. Tears poured down Patton’s cheeks and he shivered, hunched over the controls.

V didn’t look much better, pinched face softening when Logan approached, bringing him within the boundary of his esper coil. But V shook his head, jerking his chin toward Janus and Hesper. “Keep them protected and see if you can shield Papa Bear. I’m alright, Mac.” He pushed a little smile on his face. “We’re almost there.”

Logan moved as close to Patton as the ship’s space would allow, turning up the coil to broaden the protective radius now that he was clear of the forces outside.

“Thanks, Kiddo,” he breathed, tearing his eyes from Janus and Hesper and focusing on the ship. “We’re ready to take off as soon as the boys are onboard.”

Remus and The Prince climbed aboard and sealed the gangway against the screams outside. The cries petered out completely and V nodded. “We’re clear, Pat, let’s go!” In the new silence, Logan let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, collapsing against the inner cavity of his suit. 

The ship took off, swaying as Patton dodged a few poorly aimed blaster bolts. After a few minutes, they leveled out high above the dusty cloud cover. Logan stepped back from Patton and set Janus down on his feet before tightening his grip on Hesper. He was still a wreck, hiding his face and weeping into his hands. Logan flipped back his faceplate to see everyone with his own eyes.

“What’s wrong with him? You’re not still…” He looked up at the twins and wobbled his head. “The Illusion’s gone, right?”

Realization washed over Remus’ features. A realization he did not share aloud. “Turn it off, Lo,” Remus muttered as he and Janus raced to Hesper’s side. “Please!” Hands on the ship’s controls, Patton craned his neck, looking back at them with fresh tears in his eyes. Virgil gripped his shoulder and took his place and soon all three were pulling Hesper away from Logan.

“Lukie,” Patton whispered, taking his hand. “Lukie, it wasn’t real. It’s okay. You’re safe, now. Everyone’s safe.”

“Lukie?” The mech’s gyroscope kept Logan upright when his hand fell from the controls. “What? No… No, he’s…” Mouth agape, he stared at each of the Mad Lads and then at Hesper, waiting for someone to say something, anything to explain. “He’s Lucas?”

[edupunkn00b]

Meus ex Machina

How it started

One year ago, June 20, 2023

Chapter 10, the original final chapter for my 20k plan for Meus ex Machina. Word count for this chapter expected to be about 1700 based on the outline.

How it ended

Chapter 21, the actual final chapter to Meus ex Machina weighs in at 4302 words. It's hitting AO3 and Tumblr tomorrow.

[edupunkn00b]

Meus ex Machina, Chapter 21: The Mad Lads

Edited public domain image of two hands reaching for each other, lit in deep blue and neon green.

Prev - Final Chapter: The Mad Lads - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

WC: 4302 - Rated: T - CW: Swearing and a little innuendo at the end, angst and comfort

Together again, at last.

Never before had Janus—intentionally—been on the receiving end of the twins’ nightmarish Illusions. 

Even with all of Luc’s best efforts to pull away his fear, Janus’ head now throbbed and the crawling, creeping sensations of phantom bugs pricked at his skin. Visions of blood and torn flesh floated just on the edges of his mind and he struggled to push away the memories of horrors he hadn’t actually experienced. Unprotected and the actual targets of the Illusion, the corporate forces tearing each other apart back on the landing platform filled him with pity.

After recalling how eager they had been to tip Luc’s ship over the edge with both of them still in it, Janus’ pity didn’t last.

Luc, though… Something was wrong about Luc’s reaction. Still safely nestled in the bounds of Machina’s esper coil, the Illusion was effectively blocked for all three of them. Half-listening to the others, he checked Luc for injuries and anxiously waited for when it would be safe for Machina to drop his personal shield and he could try to get a real glimpse into Luc’s mind.

Pat soon joined them, cradling Luc in his arms and whispering in his ear. A lump grew in Janus’ throat. How long had it been since Pat held his little brother?

“He’s Lucas?” Machina’s voice broke through Janus’ reverie and he looked up. “The one who sold you out?”

“What?” Muse’s head jerked up, glaring first at him and then at his brother. “What the fuck did you all tell him?”

“I told him nothing but the truth,” Ro insisted, arms crossed over his chest. Virge sucked his teeth but otherwise remained silent. “I told him how Lucas betrayed us and how he abandoned you.” He looked down at Luc like he was something unmentionable Machina had tracked in on his boot. “And I told him all about how you tried to corrupt me to your side.” He glared now at Luc. “Like I could ever be anything like you.”

“Is that true? Did you try to recruit Ro?” Janus whispered, stepping back from him. The moment he stepped outside the range of Machina’s personal esper coil, the world flooded back into his awareness. A riot of thoughts bubbling in Ro’s mind, tinted with guilt poorly hidden behind an angry mask. The Muse… 

Janus inhaled deeply and savored the welcome chaos of The Muse’s mind. Strong, even filtered through the device wrapped on his wrist. Gods how he’d missed that. Virge was shielded, keeping his thoughts to himself as he concentrated on getting them back to base before the corporate forces regrouped and tried to track them, so Janus didn’t pry. Pat. Janus clenched his jaw. Poor Pat was just barely hanging on, gripping Luc’s hand but looking up at Ro, waiting for more of his tale.

And Luc?

The bit he could see of Luc's mind beyond Machina's EMF carried no malice, no guilt. Not a drop of the deception that had poured off of him at every encounter since that awful night he’d left. Trembling on the floor, rooted close to Machina by the giant metal hand still gripping his vest, Luc’s eyes were dark, his powers completely jammed by Machina’s shield.

Noticing the attention he’d drawn, Luc curled in a ball, arms over his head. The energy he’d used trying to shield him from the twins’ nightmare vision had left Luc shaken. Tears coursed down his cheeks, broken and despondent in a way Janus had never before seen him.

Janus stared at him, the silence of his mind… unnerving.

“You can turn off your coil, Machina,” Silvertongue said quietly, eyes still fixed on Luc. “He can’t—”

“Don’t do it, Mac,” Ro spoke over him. “Hesper’ll only trick you. He can control your emotions. We should land, get rid of him and just go back home.”

“You’re making him out like some kind of supervillain!” The Muse snapped.

“Isn’t he? ‘Hesper the Hacker,’ running around and blowing things up when he thinks you get too angry? Thinks he’s Robin Hood or Roosevelt or—”

Machina hadn’t turned off the coil yet—the confusion painted on his face needed no powers to read as he watched the brothers argue. He hovered just this side of switching it off.

“Wait,” Janus stopped him and took another step back from the edge of the shield. “He’s right—”

“What?!” Patton and The Muse both cried.

“Well, not—Just, keep it on,” he said to Machina. “But keep it low. Just on you,” he said. The Muse’s eyes widened, picking up enough of his thoughts to see his plan. “Keep it just on you. And on him,” Janus said and pointed at Luc.

Metal grip tight on Luc’s vest, Machina complied, though the glances he gave Ro and The Muse left Janus uncertain how much time they had before one or the other brother’s arguments held sway.

Janus crouched down to better see Luc’s eyes, brown and tear-filled. Vulnerable. Luc looked away.

“Luc?" He shuddered at the sound of his own name and Janus had to fight the urge to reach for him. "Did you actually try to convince Ro to betray us?”

“I said he did! He—” Ro interrupted and Janus raised one hand, watching Luc’s reaction and listening to everything coming off of him. With the shield this low, he was picking up… something.

“Let Luc answer!” he hissed.

Luc addressed the floor, arms wrapped tight around himself. “Of course not,” he whispered. “I reached out just…” His eyes flicked up to the twins. “I wanted to know how Re was. And I tried to explain—”

Ro scoffed. “You mean you tried to make excuses!”

“Maybe,” Luc shrugged, voice shaky and dull. “Maybe that’s all it was. All any of this is. Let me be the monster of your fairy tale, dear Prince.” He gestured vaguely and wouldn’t meet any of their eyes, affecting a perfect apathy with his expression.

But his heart screamed.

“Believe what you will, ma cheri,” he muttered to Janus, tone icy. But the tears in his eyes flowed faster, spilling down a stiff mask. “Just let me out and be done with it.” He jerked his chin at the control panel then finally locked eyes with him. “Thirty thousand feet should do it.”

“Don’t you dare!” Pat finally spoke, wrapping both hands around Machina’s wrist. Even his massive fingers wouldn’t meet around the exosuit. Undeterred, he looked up at Machina, tears belying the angry set in his jaw. “You wouldn’t, would you?”

A sob burst from Luc’s lips and he clung to his brother’s leg, shaking. Janus moved closer, just within the boundary of Machina’s shield.

“I think you can turn it off, Lo,” The Muse murmured, breaking his spell of indecision. Machina complied but kept his grip on Luc’s vest.

In the second between the coil deactivating and the soft orange glow returning to Luc’s eyes, the full force of his mind slammed into Janus’. Fear and anguish, a thrashing panic at being seen so open, so vulnerable. The twins felt it, too, saved from falling only by Machina’s other arm.

Luc dried his face on his sleeves and avoided Janus’ gaze. The harsh orange light from his eyes cast long shadows everywhere he looked. “Thank you. That’s much better, my dear Silvery Tongue,” he purred, the steadiness restored to his tone. The puffiness in his face, however, and his voice, hoarse from his earlier sobbing, was harder to hide. He pushed Patton away and scrambled to his feet.

With nowhere else to go, he stood between Machina and the inner hull, the durasteel bot frame a wall between him and his former family.

“How long, Luc?” Janus asked, reaching for what lay beneath the now familiar, oily duplicity that had returned with his powers.

Eyes down, Luc adjusted the buckles on his vest before waving vaguely. “‘How long’ what, ma cheri?”

“Come on, Lucas, don’t fuck around,” The Muse had begun to twirl a tiny glowing sphere between his fingers, that anxious stim Janus hadn’t seen in years. “Just be straight with us.”

~

Encased in its suit, the robot’s gaze ping-ponged between them, its confusion suffocating in the small space. Lucas didn’t know whether to be relieved or offended that no-one appeared to have clued the new guy in on his full history with the team. They’d just pointed their shiny toy soldier in his direction and said ‘Bad.’

It stood now, sentry-still with its head exposed, watching them all with big worried eyes. No matter how he tried, Lucas couldn’t ignore the genuine concern pouring off it. The bot stepped back, putting a physical distance between itself and the others, but that didn’t stop its concerned little glances at Pat and Jan.

Lucas couldn't miss the way it hovered close to Re, a guard dog on a short leash.

Pat inched closer, rivers of sorrow and grief flowing from his mind. But Lucas wouldn’t stop him, even if he didn’t understand what Pat was looking for. More evidence he was the villain Ro and Jan thought he was? Another peek at his cracked mask? 

Absolution for ignoring him all these years?

Avoiding his brother's eyes, Lucas stared past Pat’s shoulder. Virge was guiding the ship north, past the Canadian oil fields and through the chaos of the Megalopolis. Likely trying to lose any corpo tails they might’ve picked up before circling back home. Nicely done, Virge.

Pat reached for him, misinterpreting his little nod. Lucas shook his head. “Let me go,” he muttered. “You don’t know what I’ve done.”

“Yeah, we do, Kiddo,” he nodded, still moving closer. “And we’ve all done things we’re not proud of.”

“I’m telling you all, he’s just manipulating you!” Ro spat out, one hand locked around Re’s arm and trying to pull him back. The robot moved away, leaving him exposed to the others. He started to follow but it activated whatever anti-power shield it had carried in his ship and Lucas slid back from the empty sensation. He did not need to be left another sobbing mess at this wannabe Iron Giant’s feet.

The robot’s eyes widened.

“He’s not manipulating us,” it began. 

“He’s manipulating himself,” Jan finished, stepping closer and reaching for Lucas’ hand. “I asked you how long, Luc.”

Lucas flinched. He didn’t know which hurt worse, hearing Jan hiss out ‘Hesper’ or hearing him say his actual name with such softness. Lucas squared his shoulders, eyes stinging his lids, and pushed out a laugh. “As lovely as they are, ma cheri, your gold and chocolate eyes and a few pretty words don’t change a thing between us.”

He managed to smile and focused on a spot just below Jan’s earlobe. The memory of his slurred accusations wove together with Andrew’s final pleas. 

There was no going back.

“You meant what you said when you called me a traitor, dearest." Jan had the gall to look ashamed. He was ashamed. Not that he mattered any more. Lucas held tight to the barbed wire wrapped around his chest. "I could feel your heart. You hadn’t spoken in anger or in haste. You’d meant every little word.”

Lucas settled his goggles firmly on his face, blocking the orange light from his eyes. “None of it matters.” Pat’s chin trembled and Re? Shaking his head, Lucas closed himself off as much as he could from Re’s thoughts. He shrugged, turning from them before they heard his traitorous heart tell them how much it all really did matter. “Maybe it’s all true anyway. I’m a Judas in your midst, ready to sacrifice you all for a bit of silver.”

He stood taller, shoulders forced back against the heaviness pulling him down to the deck. Pulling him closer to Pat’s open and waiting arms. Closer to the hum of Jan's heart. Lucas shook his head. “Just leave me off at Scotia Shore, take your hodge podge family and go home.”

“I can hear you, Lucas.” Re muttered, voice thick with tears. “You don’t mean that.” 

“Meus is right,” The robot said. “He—”

“‘Meus?’” Lucas hissed, head whipped up and glaring at the bot. Yes, this was the presence he'd felt with him when Jan had first visited. The creature he'd left alone with Re.

Lucas didn't need to force his anger to the surface. Ro accused him of manipulation when he did nothing as his own brother was groomed by some interloper? He risked meeting Re’s eyes and moved closer. Let this hunk of junk even try to touch Re again. Whatever the fuck powered his shield couldn’t last forever. Gaunt and bubbling with emotions, Lucas could shatter him without hardly trying.

He just barely stopped himself from taking Re’s hand. “‘Meus?’” He whispered, shaking his head. “Illud subris?” [ ‘“Mine?” “Mine?” Does it own you now?’ ] He looked over his shoulder and the skinny thing stared past him, eyes on Re. 

Lucas met Re’s eyes. How could the others have let it hurt him this way? “Or does it think I didn’t teach you what that means?” 

The thing shifted in its metal suit and Re looked at it for a moment before turning back to him. -”Re… I won’t let anyone hurt you again,”- Lucas promised privately. -“Say the word and I’ll get you out of here. I’m so sorry I left without you before. Never again, Re,”- he gripped his other hand, ignoring Ro’s huff of protest. -“Never again.”-

But Remus just squeezed his hand and smiled. -”Lo’s not hurting me, Lucas. No-one is.”- Gaze bouncing between him and the bot behind him, he spoke aloud. “Ille dedit mihi quid neminem poterat." [ ‘He gave me what no-one else could. ]  Libertatum meus.” [ 'My freedom.’ ] 

Joy radiated from his face, from his heart, from his mind. Lucas’ throat closed. The bot did this? After siphoning off what he could from Jan to guard him from the twins’ Illusion and maintaining his composure now… Luc was feeling more drained than he’d felt in years. Not since…

Head bowed, he squeezed his eyes shut behind his glasses but Re tugged at his sleeve until he looked up. Re jiggled the coil on his wrist inches from Lucas’ face, his wild smile bright and contagious. “Mea sui.” he added, touching his own chest. [ ‘I own me now.’ ] 

Lucas traced the outer circuitry and the hair on the back of his hand stood on end. It was just a fucking EMF, a lot like the one in Re’s old room, but… He moved Re’s hand close to his chest then stretched it out and away. The field had no impact on him, and apparently not on any of the others, either. It was tuned just for Re.

“How?” he whispered, throat tight and hands shaking. He had to get out of here or else—

Jan moved closer then, backing him against Re’s chest. Lucas stood as tall as he could, but it was getting harder to resist the softness in Jan’s eyes.

“Luc, I was wrong about Re. I was wrong to give up.” Jan offered his hand, palm up. Ungloved. “I was wrong about a lot of things.”

“That’s wonderful,” Lucas spat back, sarcasm falling flat. How long had he waited for these words? How long had he schemed of finding a way to free Re from the prison of his own powers? How long had he dreamed Jan would find him and tell him he’d been wrong?

Too long. “So just let me out and go celebrate,” he said.

He had no place here. Not anymore. Ro’s scowl grew, conflict brewing in his thoughts as his brother’s and now Jan’s words began to sway him. Fuck, if Ro started in, too, he was sure to break. But no, Ro looked away, resolute and staring at the floor.

Why wasn’t he relieved? Lucas waved a hand, dismissing his own stupid hope. “Unless you’d rather just take me to your bosses. I’m sure there’s a bounty to collect.”

~

Buffeted by the torment threaded through Lucas’ voiced words, The Muse stared at Ro. -”Still think he’s just manipulating us?”- He couldn’t help needling his brother, just a bit, with the brittle façade Lucas was clinging to. They could both feel it.

Back when they were kids, Jannie used to joke about how loud Lucas would get when he was tired. About how much of his real thoughts would slip through, laughter in his mind when they hid in the trees instead of coming to bed. The swears he stifled that night he burned his hand on the kettle.

He and Ro had always played dumb, pretending they couldn’t hear him as well as they actually could. But late at night, they could hear Lucas’ thoughts from any room in the house. It made it easier to not get caught when sneaking extra treats from the kitchen. 

And when they took that extra trip out in the transport when Papa Bear and Jannie were away.

But there was nothing fun about the way Lucas seemed ready to crumble now, the way he stiffened at Jannie’s approach. Or the way he’d lain sobbing at Logan’s feet when they’d first come on board.

Even now, Lucas’ eyes flickered behind his glasses. No matter how much power he burned through, he couldn’t seem to stop the waves of loneliness flooding out of him.

-”Are you saying Jan’s been lying to us this whole time?”- Ro wouldn’t look at Lucas, probably blocking out his silent, wordless cries.

The Muse shook his head. -”I don’t think it’s either or, Ro.”- He watched Lucas deny and evade Jannie and Pat’s questions, avoiding all of their eyes but, not since that first moment when Logan had released him, never really moving far from either of them.

All this time, The Muse had thought Lucas had been upset with him. Disappointed in his loss of control. Ashamed of what he’d done back at the bar. But that wasn’t it at all.

Virge was blocking them all out so he could fly, and Jannie and Pat focused on Lucas. Ro was an angry wall, his own confused mess of hurt crashing against him. They would spiral together if they weren’t careful.

So he sought out his haven in Lo’s eyes. His shield was still up, burning cold air thick and empty around him. At least his musing about testing whether his growing sympathies for ‘Hesper’ were all a trick had given him a little warning.

But when would he drop it again? Recognition had lit up his face when he saw the truth. C’mon, Lo, you know it’s safe. You can drop your shield. No-one’s gonna hurt you here.

Without the distraction of their counterattack, the silence where Lo’s thoughts should be in The Muse’s mind was growing unbearable. Tuning out the growing desperation in Jannie’s voice and the false boredom in Lucas’, he stared at Lo, waiting, hoping, wishing he would just—

-”’Whenever it hurts, whenever you hurt, remember this feeling,’”- Lo’s voice spilled out in a rush. Warmth and heat and comfort and need all wrapped up together, gloriously tangled with his own.

-”Lo…”- His tentative grip last night, his fear he’d somehow miscalculated with the coil. Those big blue eyes asking him to never let go.

Locked away in his suit, Lo gripped his hand in their thoughts and smiled. -”I’m right here, Meus,”- he sent back. -”We’ll figure this out.”-

The Muse was still nodding when he heard Lucas, his voice cracked and strained. “Just turn me in already!” he said in a falsely annoyed tone, like a hotshot who’d grown tired of waiting for his drinks to be served in some old vid. “Take me to Jaipur. Take me to Abracadabra. Take me back to my ship to be blown to bits, just—”

His eyes blazed bright enough to bleed around the edges of his goggles. The Muse shook his head and pulled him into a hug. Lucas shuddered in his arms but didn’t pull away. Tears leaked past screwed shut eyelids and he let out a whimper before gradually melting into The Muse's embrace. 

He rubbed Lucas’ back and said aloud, “The only place we’re taking you, Lucas, is home.” He looked out over his shoulder at everyone else. “Right?”

Papa Bear didn’t answer, just joined their embrace, ruffling Lucas’ hair. “Not letting you go this time, Kiddo,” he whispered through tears. 

Virgil had turned in his seat, watching them all as he chewed the corner of his lip. “Well I'm sure as hell not throwing anybody out the ship.”

The Muse stuck out his tongue. “Not even if I asked nicely?” Virgil’s glare dissolved in a little chuckle and he rolled his eyes before turning back to the controls. 

“How ‘bout you, Ro?” 

His mind spoke for him but The Muse stayed quiet as Ro frowned, the arms crossed over his chest now looking more like he was hugging himself. -”But how do we know this is real?”-

Still holding Lucas close, The Muse cupped one hand, giving life to the flurry of emotions pouring from his brother. A tiny painted butterfly sparked to life, sitting placidly in his palm, opening and closing its wings to the rhythm of his heart. He grinned and offered it to Ro.

Ro stared at it for a long moment before accepting it and nodding, gripping Lucas’ shoulder with his other hand. “Yeah.” 

Lo looked surprised when The Muse turned to him for his answer, but he nodded, too.

Everyone then turned to Jannie. Left hand outstretched, he looked only at Lucas. “Please will you come home, Luc?”

“My home was probably just blown to smithereens by the fucking corpos,” he muttered, harsh words softened and muffled against The Muse's shoulder.

Jannie took his hand and Lucas let him, turning to face him. His goggles were crooked and he moved to straighten them but Papa Bear took them off instead, revealing tears in his slowly fading orange eyes.

“Just trust us, dammit,” Jannie whispered and Lucas fell into his arms.

Epilogue

“Alright, Mac…” V held the exosuit harness straps at Logan’s right shoulder while he adjusted his stump. It slid into the socket with a little thwop. “Now we get to see if your valve design works.”

“Of course it works,” Logan tried to look stern, but still he held his breath as he flipped the switch sealing the exo-arm in place. Excess air hissed out and then stopped, gently gripping his stump. “Would you like to test the hold?”

V grinned, tightening the harness, then pulled up a chair. “Are you offering to arm wrestle me, Mac?”

Logan rested his new elbow on the table, hand up, and raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid to lose to a Traditional.”

“Oh, you’re on!”

Six and a half minutes later, the satisfying smack of flesh on wood was followed by a low whistle and a cheer from the hallway. “You got him, Kiddo!”

“Thank you,” Logan panted, readily taking one of the towels Patton offered to mop his brow.

“Rematch later?” V asked, wiping sweat from his own face. 

“Best two out of three,” he grinned.

Patton set down a bowl of soup and a big pitcher full of icy blue electrolyte. “You’ve got a strong new arm there, Kiddo!”

Remus laughed. “As long as it’s strong enough to hold him up while he’s plowin—” 

“Meus!” Logan’s cheeks burned and he tried to ignore the salacious wink Remus shot across the table.

“And that’s enough of that mental image, thank you!” Princey sounded stern but Logan caught the little quirk in his lip as he settled into his seat. “Can we all just pretend the only thing Iron Man’ll use his new arm for is push-ups?”

Remus brushed a kiss against Logan’s cheek as he leaned over, setting down a tray of roasted yams. “That sounds an awful lot like lying, Ro Bro.”

“A lie I’m perfectly comfortable with maintaining,” Janus murmured from the hall.

Lucas laughed behind him. “I see denial’s not just a riverbed in Egypt, huh?”

“Can we please talk about something else?” V asked, passing the tray of chickpeas. “Anything?”

“Prude,” Remus laughed, but looked up at Patton as he took his seat. “So what kind of cookies did you make tonight, Papa Bear?”

“Chocolate chip,” he grinned, accepting the tray with a little nod at Logan.

“Dibs!” the twins shouted in unison but Patton just chuckled.

“‘Dibs’ on what, exactly?” Janus asked, a grin defying his low tone.

“Anything!” Princey said as though it were obvious.

“Everything!” Remus said just as quickly.

Lucas sat back in his chair, grinning at the twins. “So if Pat made cookies with pickles and mushrooms, you’d be fighting over those, too?”

“To the death!” Remus laughed, stabbing a fork into Princey’s hand, turning it soft and pliable at the last moment. It took Logan a beat to notice Remus’ actual fork was still sitting next to his plate.

“And that’s enough of that mental image,” Patton laughed from the other end of the table.

“You fiend!” Princey pouted, rubbing his hand before tossing a small ball of sparks into Remus’ hair.

Lucas held up a hand, wordlessly stopping Remus mid-retaliation, then turned to Logan. “Mac?”

“I’m moving, I’m moving,” Logan laughed, rolling his chair between the twins’. “Better?” he asked them.

Remus laid his head on Logan’s shoulder before using his real fork to spear a bite of his yams. -”Much,”- he said silently, mouth full.

“Thanks, Mac,” Princey nodded, then narrowed his eyes at his brother, a crooked smile softening his tone. “This isn’t over, Re.”

Looking around the table at his family, Janus grinned when Lucas squeezed his hand under the tablecloth. “It never is.”